Playing for Keeps
by Cloverfield
Summary: Because Hiro liked her little games and although Sae spouted a lot of nonsense about boys and dates and her romances of middleschool, it was very hard to deal with love when one's only experience of it was confined to cheap novels and the scripts thereof.


**DISCLAIMER**: Hidamari Sketch, the apartment block and the girls don't belong to me. If they did, you bet I wouldn't have to wait this long for the second season…

**PREFACE:** because I love Sae and Hiro and the atmosphere between them which begs to be explored in more detail. And because the love letter OVA was just asking for it.

Inspired in part by the wonderful cover of _Under the Milky Way_ by Sia (wonderful song, look it up) and poker, of which I know nothing about.

* * *

**Playing for Keeps**

* * *

The incident with the love letter -as it had come to be known amongst the residents of Hidamari Apartments- didn't start it. That wasn't to say the whole embarrassing fiasco had no bearing on the matter, because it did (_her throat closing, squeezing tight as her best friend lifts a pink envelope up, slender fingers trembling- and Sae's heart, stuttering in her chest, so painful, at the thought of the words within)_, but it certainly had _not_ been the first time she had been drawn into breathless panic over something Hiro had said or done.

And it would not be the last.

Because Hiro liked her little games and although Sae spouted a lot of nonsense about boys and dates and her many, many romances of middle school (_all lies, all of them, things to blurt out in her nervous fear of the knowing look in carmine eyes)_ it was very hard to deal with love when one's only experience of it was confined to cheap novels and the scripts thereof.

None of the clichés she wrote could even cover the knee-knocking, heart-pumping, brain-stopping _terror_ of being alone with your best friend when _she_ knew that _you_ knew that she _knew_ exactly what it meant when your eyes caught hers and locked like gears.

(-_full_ _lips parting in a slow, slow smile as warmth smoothes over flushed skin where wine-stained eyes glide over her and Sae swallows. The winter chill means nothing to the pearls of sweat rolling in lazy lines down her neck, soaking short hair with damp heat as Hiro leans back to stretch. Her innocent face does not match the small, neat toes that trace delicate circles across Sae's feet, her calves, kneading her thighs beneath the kotatsu, and only the blessed knocking of Yuno at the door saves her from the wickedness blooming in eyes pooling with knowing darkness-)_

Cliché or not, her novels sell all the same, teenage girls gobbling up tales of unrequited love and dramatic confession, page by page, chapter by chapter. And though her pen blurs across paper with greater speed and deadlines cinch tighter about her, no words that spill out of her in a rush of characters and ink can express the fizzing in her blood when Hiro smiles at her just _so_-

"I will not think about it," she declares, and her voice rings with confidence in the empty apartment, "I will not let her silly teasing affect me. Hiro can play her games all she wants; it has no bearing on our friendship_."_ But that cool composure melts too easily, and as a visit to the bathhouse leaves her dignity a dripping mess (_the silken slide of her top over white shoulders far too sensual for this setting, the tension far too thick as the redhead lingered over the soft cotton slipping down over narrow hips, those half-lidded eyes too knowing as Sae undresses and Hiro's own generous curves swell against the scanty towel that clung in wet lines to adorn rather than conceal her glorious nakedness) _Sae can't help but flinch, even though Hiro had laughed and giggled and blown it off with a wave of her hand.

"We're both girls after all," she had said, "what does it matter if we share a bath?" and true enough, the young novelist would not throw that comfortable camaderie between them both away on the whim of fleeting discomfort. Because Hiro was her friend, her first in truth (_because shyness is a terrible thing for a young girl in a new school, and for that hesitance to be branded as aloofness had meant a very lonely few years_) and she would not, could not cast aside the simple delight of her company for a half-hearted notion of something more.

No matter the catch of breath as those fingers brushed hers in all innocence; no matter the tingling press of thigh against thigh as the two of them swayed together on the train, or the tantalising, half-thought dreams that haunted her in the dark moments before dawn gilded her curtains.

(It was all of those small moments, strung out, that left her bowed, humming with tension; but Sae was not alone in her taught distress, and when such a simple thing threatened to snap the threads that bound them, Hiro felt those vibrations too...)

* * *

"From the way you were carrying on about it, any one would think _you'd_ given it to her in the first place," Miya had said, stick of pocky wobbling between her lips. "She said no. She turned down the guy before he even got a chance to talk to her. And besides, that was weeks ago. What's got you all in a lather now?"

The blonde lounged across the floor, rolling across the rug all four of them had spilt paint on last summer, tumbling over spotted, stained cotton with a faint "u-wah-u-wah-u-wah" sound as she went.

"_Nothing!_ Nothing is bothering me! Nothing at all! And stop rolling about like that! You're not a four year old!"

"Uh-huh," says Miya, flat on her back and crunching her pocky up and into her mouth. "Something's got your panties twisted, alright." Crumbs spray across the floor.

"I hope you plan to clean that up," she says, a trifle weakly, unable to force anger into a voice suddenly gone flat. Miya waves a sticky hand in dismissal, eyes shining with a cunning her chocolate-smeared features would belie.

"Whatever. Obviously, you're too antsy to work- why don't you call over the other two, and we can play cards or something?"

"As I recall, I didn't even call _you_ here, and I have deadline due in two days-"

"Deadline, _schmeadline_." Already fishing in her pockets for her mobile, she crams another few sticks into her mouth as she dials.

"Miya, I really don't think-"

"_Hey Yuno! Go grab Hiro, and we'll play cards ne? Come to Sae's room!"_

* * *

One game had turned into two, two had bloomed into a competition and a competition -_Yuno sleeping in the warm folds of the kotatsu, Miya slumped over her hand of cards, drooling on the laminated finish, the two of them alone in the dim light of a lamp, shadows dancing across the lens of Sae's glasses and pooling in the red velvet darkness of Hiro's eyes- _had meltedinto a duel.

And as Sae watches Hiro lay her cards down with a flourish, triumph written in the lush curve of her smile, she asks herself why.

(Because all evening she had known there was more at stake than pocket money, than movie tickets or favourite bracelets or paintbrushes or any of the useless trinkets they'd dropped in the middle of the group, a bounty for the victor-

Because when the others had succumbed to the late hour and drifted off, neither of them had declared the match over; because, as they both knew, it had only really just gotten _started_-

Because Hiro _played_ with her, used her like a game-piece with no thought or care to the swelling ache in her too-tight chest as encarmined eyes glossed over the hurt her teasing words caused; because Hiro, damn, infuriating, impossible, intoxicating _Hiro_ picked the games and changed the rules and did not tell the other players, of which Sae now knew she was one-

Because it had taken her this long to realise she was the _only_ other player, and though one can play cards on their own, sometimes it's more fun with two_-_

Because this game was _always_ meant to be played with _two_-

_And-and-and _because_ I have always-only-ever wanted to play with _you_, Hiro-_)

Sae looks at her cards. Lays them down. And watches Hiro's smile disappear.

"Royal flush. I believe that's the term for what I have…" her hand, reaching, comes to rest -_so gentle, the texture of soft skin a mere graze beneath fingertips_- on Hiro's and draws her away from the prize pool.

"And… as you said at the start of the game, Hiro…"

The redhead shudders, and startled eyes grow wide as something glows behind glass in blue-grey-shadowed eyes, something she had never thought to see, never dared to dream of, her own prayers for reciprocation long abandoned to the wind now whistling through her thoughts, spiralling up and filling her with pain and fine, trembling need and something a lot like _hope_-

"...winner takes _all_."

* * *

But it hadn't ended there. Hell, it had only just _started._

It is all very well and good to admit to the possibility of maybe liking your good friend and confidante just a touch more than deemed socially acceptable for mere platonic companionship.

It is another thing _entirely_ to act on it.

Sae had never been so brave and so cowardly.

_Scooping the prizes off the table and into her lap, she bundles them in her jumper and stands, hands lifting from Hiro's. The girl watches, breathless, as she crosses to her art bench and dumps them on a bundle of old shojo manga, hairpins and pocky and coins scattering over the paint-stained worktop._

_She lets her jumper go, and it sags against her slender frame. She stretches, and Hiro's gaze traces the skin of her stomach as her clothes creep up, up, up exposing a cute navel like a little teacup. Hiro thinks she would very much like to drink tea from that little hollow, lick sweet droplets from the soft curve of that belly, flick her tongue into the damp depression and hear the girl moan her name… but Sae drops her arms, relaxed once more, and the sight that rivets Hiro so disappears._

_She twists her neck, clicks her shoulders back into place, and lets her gaze rest on the redhead before her. Navy eyes glow like starlight on deep water, like smoked glass over flame, and Hiro knows she can't possibly be imagining the heat in those dark, gorgeous eyes that scorch into her where they lay, and trembles a little as Sae takes a step closer-_

_-and stops, lifts her gaze, and sighs at the boneless bundle of Yuno puddled at her feet in the warm folds of the tablecloth._

"_It's 2am. We should get these two to bed."_

… uwah?_ thinks the redhead, and wonders where that smouldering promise disappeared to. A small twinge twitches in her belly, and she pushes it down. If Sae wants to toy with her, she'll damn well toy back!_

"_Give me hand here, ne, Hiro?"_

_She brushes off that strangely bitter thought and helps Sae wake and walk the two of their younger companions to bed, tucking them in with a motherly kiss on the forehead; and she jokes and laughs with the bespectacled young woman who could hold the world to ransom with her smile-_

_Because they are friends above all else. And though she wishes for something more, sees potential in her slender frame, yearns to be closer than even a tightly-woven friendship makes them, Hiro takes pleasure in the simple act of being near her, and thinks that maybe she can be content for now._

_Even if it hurts a little._

_But then she waves goodbye and turns to leave as Sae shivers on her doorstep -because it's late and damn cold and the clouds of their breath steam together in white plumes- and the taller girl drops her pen-calloused hand on Hiro's shoulder and turns her back._

"_Sae-?"_

_Lips -warm, soft and all too often bearing the brunt of anxious nibbling- press against her own. Warm breath steams into her mouth as Hiro is kissed; gently, delicately, the slow slide of desire melting down the back of her throat like hot chocolate and marshmallows. Heat suffuses her even as the chill air pinks her ears and numbs her fingers, but the simple grace of having Sae hold them apart but for that one point of sweet contact leaves her tingling in a rush from head to toe._

_Sae pulls back, suddenly; gasps a little, glasses askew. But her eyes show no fear for all that fine trembles race down slender arms, and the night-darkened blue of intelligent eyes measure the woman before her. Her hand slips from Hiro's shoulder, and the sudden loss of that small weight almost makes her stumble._

"_Hiro, I'm not very good at games; I don't handle losing well. So if that's all this is to you, I hope this is enough of a prize to satisfy you."_

_Perhaps the words are not the most elegant she has ever heard, and they trip and stumble over one another in short white puffs of moist air, but the meaning is clear and true and burns hot like a flame. Sae adjusts her glasses, wipes the fog from them with a tattered woollen sleeve._

"_But… If you want to be serious about this, if you don't want to toy with me anymore but are in this to win… then this isn't a prize. It's a promise."_

_Hiro stands, and stares, and watches the door swing slowly closed. For a heartbeat of time, the slightly chipped paint -_we really should repaint that next summer_- is the most fascinating sight she's ever seen. Then, slowly, she turns to walk away._

Sae sits with her back against the door and listens to Hiro's footsteps along the concrete, crunching the faint rime of frost that always builds up near the railings. Slowly, her head comes to rest in her hands, and she earths shaking fingers in her short hair, pulling the strands through to ease the slow fear building with every second that passes and the niggling doubt that whispers _I've ruined everything-_

(The footsteps stopped some ten minutes ago, but she hadn't noticed.)

_Tok. Tok. Tok tok tok._

The knocks shake down the door, run up her spine and echo a little in her spinning head; she just knows her expression must be dazed when she opens the door to a short, puffing redhead pulling her cardigan closer where the chill air creeps in through cloth. Curly hair, spinning in ringlets that blush pink and red under the buttery glow of the porch light, whips back and forth as Hiro stamps her feet to stave off pins and needles.

"Hiro? I thought-"

Sae is taller, but Hiro is determined and tiptoes herself up, snags the writer by the collar that peeks out over her jumper, and pulls her down for a kiss.

(Their noses bump together, and perhaps it isn't the smooth, polished performance you see so often in movie theatres, but it is real and breathless and leaves them gasping.)

"Who says we have to wait?" whispers the redhead, trembling a little as she balances on numb toes, her arms looped around Sae's shoulders. "Who says we have to go to bed and sleep on it and give ourselves time to second guess?" She licks her lips, chapped slightly from the cool air, and watches her breath steam up to the roof in a white cloud. "Why don't we just start the second round right now?"

(In all of the romance novels that Sae has ever read, ever written, there is always a moment to collect one's thoughts after the confession; the hero will always let the heroine have time to think things through, realise that she is never going to be good enough, and disappear in a burst of angst, leaving the hero to run after her, preferably into the rain, where the same old melodrama plays out over and over again…

It is how she keeps herself in print, after all.

But _her_ Hiro is right here, impatient, red-cheeked, _beautiful_… and standing on her left foot. It really isn't comfortable, but it is -_and_ _this is important_- real. It isn't Christmas Eve, it isn't Valentine's Day, and there is no incurable disease or school transfer that threatens to pull them apart.

If she were to pull back and step away, things would probably go back to normal, the events of tonight would probably be blamed on too much pocky and late night delirium. Or they wouldn't and there would forever after be an _awkwardness_ between them, one that Yuno and Miya would never understand…)

She straightens her glasses. Looks up, down, over the balcony and into the garden. The redhead, nervous, bites her lip.

A moment, and then another, passes.

Hiro eases herself down from aching tiptoes, shuffles back a little awkwardly-

And Sae breathes "literary conventions be damned" in a cloud of fog and pulls the shorter girl back.

(This time, their noses don't bump and it is every bit as smoulderingly intense as cheap paperbacks would have you believe.)

It's still cold, and far too early in the morning, but the kiss goes on with the kind of passion that should burn the sky white, drag the stars down from the heavens in a shower of sparks and leave scorch marks where they stand.

Four minutes later, the door swings closed for the second time.

_

* * *

_

_Vrrrt. Vrrrt. Vrrrt._

A hand, much like any other, snakes out of covers and grabs the mobile.

"Mmmf… Miya, it's early…"

"_Yeah, I know, but Yuno… d'you remember how we got to bed last night?"_

The girl wiggles down into her covers and mushes her pillow with her head. Her fingers are numb, and she wonders if she can just pull the blankets over her head-

"_Yuno?"_

"Sorry… fell asleep for a little bit. What is it?"

"…_weren't we playing cards at Sae's last night? Only, I don't remember getting up and leaving…"_

Yuno has a brief, blurred recollection of being woken and steered gently to bed. She touches her forehead, and remembers a goodnight kiss.

"I think so. I guess we must've though, else we wouldn't be here."

_"True."_

Sunlight, bleached and kind of blue-y, leaks in through the gaps in the curtain. Yuno watches dust spiral in tiny, brilliant sparks of light and smiles. Maybe it snowed last night. Later today, when it isn't so early, she wants to go to the park and build snow men and bunnies and make art from frozen water. She wonders if the rest will join her.

"_Yuno?"_

"Mmm…?"

"..._did I win?"_

* * *

**Endnote: **ah, late night gambling. The answer to all romantic problems. Wrote this whilst I was supposed to be doing assignments, as is usually the case.

For those of you that follow Egg Belly, don't panic; I'm still writing it. Just wanted to wash my brain of the Hidamari plot bunnies first.

Yes / No? Good / Bad?

...review? Please?


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